Kent Cutting
My Aunt's husband, Uncle Kent, died on my 39th birthday a few days
ago. It's a tough loss to absorb. By the time he was diagnosed with
incurable cancer he only had a few weeks to live. He came home to die
and very soon family and friends gathered around him and lent their
strength and love during his final days. The hospice nurse said she
had never seen such a large and tight-knit group turn out and that it
was probably a great comfort to Kent.
was scheduled to hit Florida tomorrow and I didn't feel it would be
appropriate to leave my family and job when it was still possible to
make travel arrangements. Now it's too late and I wish I was there. Funny thing is, I don't even have a dark suit in my closet. I'm not
likely to get one either. It's not that I'm afraid of death. I don't
welcome it, but I believe that you have to make the most of your life
while you're granted your short stay on this planet. I do feel the
loss of Kent's future contributions to his family and friends, his
propensity to make good things happen for people he might not even
know, and the ripples of positive change that his life and love
created. But mostly, I want to celebrate the good life that Kent led.
I don't want a dark suit at my funeral. It should be colorful, loud,
and full of music and good times remembered.
But rather its eventuality should inform each action so that you live
each day to its fullest. No day but today -- as they say in the musical
RENT. So for Uncle Kent, I promise to do better, live each moment with
more purpose, and celebrate each day with my family and friends.
